His
endurance was at an end. Springing up with flaming cheeks he leaped
towards the bully, and putting in practice the methods he had learned in
many a hard-fought mill at Mr. Burslem's school, he began to punish the
offender. His muscles were in good condition; Parmiter was too much
addicted to grog to make a steady pugilist; and though he was naturally
much the stronger man, he was totally unable to cope with his agile
antagonist.
A few rounds settled the matter; Parmiter had to confess that he had had
enough, and Desmond, flinging his breeches to him, sat down tingling
among his mates, who greeted the close of the fight with spontaneous and
unrestrained applause.
Next day Parmiter was in the foretop splicing the forestay. Desmond was
walking along the deck when suddenly he felt his arm clutched from
behind, and he was pulled aside so violently by Bulger's hook that he
stumbled and fell at full length. At the same moment something struck the
deck with a heavy thud.
"By thunder! 'twas a narrow shave," said Bulger. "See that, matey?"
Looking in the direction Bulger pointed, he saw that the foretopsail
sheet block had fallen on deck, within an inch of where he would have
been but for the intervention of Bulger's hook. Glancing aloft, he saw
Parmiter grinning down at him.
"Hitch that block to a halyard, youngster," said the man.
Desmond was on the point of refusing; the man, he thought, might at least
have apologized: but reflecting that a refusal would entail a complaint
to the captain, and a subsequent flogging, he bit his lips, fastened the
block, and went on his way.
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